


Joie De Vivre

by Lewdsmokesoldier



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Gratuitous French, Robot Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-04-23 00:58:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19140394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lewdsmokesoldier/pseuds/Lewdsmokesoldier
Summary: Widowmaker takes the time to visit an old associate, and to remember that life can still be good.





	Joie De Vivre

**Author's Note:**

> Another tale for [DaintyDjinn](https://twitter.com/DaintyDjinn)! I swore I would take a break from image-inspired stories, but [this piece](https://twitter.com/DaintyDjinn/status/1135607477184139265) from him was gorgeous in its simplicity, and fit very well with an idea I had brewing already. Cheers to Dainty!

Widowmaker always attracted odd looks, wherever she went.

Where their eyes lingered depended on who they were. Many of them, men, women or otherwise, ogled her openly, staring at her plunging v-neck, the curve of her hip and ass, how her too-tight suit hugged her tits and barely kept her modest. She let them stare: she was used to it, and wasn’t as bothered about the lecherous gazes as she might have been in the past. 

Some others, those with a bit more tact, focused on her skin, that ephemeral shade between light purple and blue. She could never decide which it was. Even in frigid Russia, a woman with such unusual coloration merited a second look. These glances did not cause her concern as well: it was to be expected that, alongside appreciating her beauty, some confusion would result from being in public.

The only looks that really affected her were from children. Those with more mindful caretakers steered the little ones away from her, or hushed and led them away if they tried to approach. Those on their own, or with guardians unable to provide the proper attention to them, stared at her with wide, fear-filled eyes. They didn’t know her, didn’t approach her, but simply maintained that distance, knowing deep within themselves that something was  _ dangerous _ about her. That she wasn’t a safe adult to approach. Something that almost resembled shame budded up within Widowmaker at the knowledge that something about her merited avoidance. Maybe they could notice how snowflakes didn’t melt when they landed on her skin, or how her breath barely made steam in the frigid air, or how little she shivered.

Widowmaker shook her head. She had no intention of dwelling on such thoughts today, when she had something else in mind. That wasn’t why she was here. No, she was here to meet someone specific. Someone who’d parked their car outside this library, who knew she’d be coming and was dawdling in their business with their trademark  _ lassez-faire _ approach to things.

Someone who, if her visor was reading correctly, was leaving the library and would notice her right...now.

“ _ Madame. _ ”

“ _ Monsieur. _ ” 

“ _ Désolé. Je ne sais… _ ”

“ _ Ça va bien _ . I am a patient woman, after all.”

A mechanical chuckle echoed out from the man in front of her, and he clasped his hands and gave her a small bow. She’d always held a special fondness for Maximilien...well, as much as she could, anyway. It helped that he was charming, dashing, and remarkably handsome. Him being an Omnic didn’t take away from any of his charisma—if anything, the sleek, metallic shell and lightly whirring joints added to his allure.  He took a hands-off approach to Talon, even as he managed his businesses and connections with a focus few could manage. 

“Of that, I have no doubt,  _ Madame _ . I received your  _ communiqué _ , do not worry. Shall we?”

He stepped forwards his vehicle, twirling his gold-chained key in his left index finger. If he had moving eyebrows, she had no doubt that they’d be quirking upwards. He certainly sounded smug enough. And she loved it. 

Leaning back, Widowmaker rested her hands on the hood of Maximilien’s car, extending her left leg, letting his eyes travel along it, before bending it, letting her heel hang in front of the grille of his vehicle. She pursed her lips, felt her hair drape over her right shoulder, and cooed.

“Do you have to ask? _. _ ”

— — — — — — — — — — — 

They didn’t make it into the house.

When Maximilien pulled up to the driveway of his local estate, Widowmaker had already been pawing at her tits and rubbing her crotch through her suit for some time, trying to distract him the whole way there. Soft moans of “ _ Je t’aime _ ” and murmurings of “I  _ need _ you” didn’t faze him as he navigated the snow-dusted streets of St. Petersburg, the dedicated focus he paid to financial matters paying off in his ability to keep his attention on the street.

Once they’d stopped, though, all bets were off, and he was reaching across the seat for his hands to meet hers on her breasts, his metal fingers thicker and broader than hers as he pulled her suit aside to expose her nipples. Hard and already peaked from her teasing, Maximilien applied all the finesse he knew she loved in his groping of her tits, pinching, kneading, grabbing and stroking. Widowmaker was a wall of ice, even in these most intimate moments, and he enjoyed melting her just a little bit.

The irony of an Omnic being warmer and more emotive than a human was not lost on Maximilien, but he was far too concerned with making her feel good to split hairs. One of his hands grabbed her wrists, guiding them above her head to press against the backrest of the carseat while the other slipped between her legs, his index rubbing through her suit at the wetness he felt beneath.

Widowmaker never ran  _ hot _ , but she could certainly feel something warming up within her as she was subjected to Maximilien’s fingers. Even the small gesture of restricting her hands, keeping her from stopping him even if she knew he’d never do anything she didn’t want, was helping her build to a finish alongside his digits working her covered slit. She was the only one breathing, but the windows still didn’t fog, no matter how quickly she gasped. His stroking and rubbing sped up, his fingers sliding along the imprint of her vaginal lips beneath her suit with mechanical precision, and the tightness between her legs was too much to take. 

“ _ Maintenant, Amélie _ .”

She obeyed, voice rattling as she came, legs cramping as she kicked out against the glove box and door, hands clenched into fists above his grip while she gushed and spasmed, riding the wave of friction he’d so masterfully used on her. Her teeth ached as she pressed them together, trying not to scream. Even as the rush died down and her limbs stopped quivering, she still felt the tension whirring within her, a string that had yet to settle from being twanged and touched.

Her cheeks were flushed a darker violet, but the look she gave Maximilien told him everything he needed to know. She wanted more.

He half carried, half dragged her up the steps, and she was on him before the door was fully closed, pushing him against it while fishing for his belt, his own hands working to pull her out of her suit. Widowmaker’s clothing slipped off easily enough, and his pants fell to the floor with a clatter.

Widowaker had slept with Maximilien before, but the sight of his robotic cock still gave her pause. After the war, those Omnics who desired adjustments had gone out and had the appropriate changes added to their frame, whether that meant orifices, attachments, or something else entirely. 

Maximilien had gone all-out on his sex organs, leaving him sporting a slim shaft made of interlocked plates over a chassis with two shimmering silver orbs underneath, fastened onto his crotch. When she touched them, he hissed and his dick stiffened—she was well aware of how many feedback centers were embedded in its surface, eager to give Maximilien as much pleasure as possible. And given her own lowered temperature, she knew that having metal of this sort inside her wouldn’t feel  _ too _ unusual. And the Omnic—no, the  _ man— _ that it was attached to made it all the better. She was just glad that he had something to make him feel good, too.

She raised her legs, straddled his hips, and sank herself onto his shaft while wrapping her arms around his shoulders as he spread her apart. It was still a bit of a jump, but he responded authentically enough with grunts, groans and stutters, and the cock he wielded rubbed her walls as well as any of the human cocks she’d partaken of. 

Maximilien’s wealth and power had brought many women to his bed, and he’d understood just how humans could devote so much of their lives to feeling someone else wrapped around their shafts or fingers, or to feeling said intrusions inside them. He didn’t know if the pleasure he felt was the same, but the pressure around his feedback loops, the tightness around his dick were as real to him as they were to any human. Every quiver of Widowmaker’s quim around his cock, every pulse of pressure brought him the same fulfillment as it might to anyone with a flesh-and-blood shaft. Her cunt was quite a ways cooler than the others he’d enjoyed, but somehow that made it better: it reminded him that he was fucking Amélie, that she’d chosen to celebrate life with him. She meant more to him, and the best way to show her was to do full justice to the pussy she’d so kindly offered to him.

He grabbed her by the ass and pumped up into her, letting her drag her nails along his back. They found no purchase, no skin to pierce on his metal shell, so she held her grip by wrapping her legs around his waist, throwing her head back and moaning while he fucked her standing, right in his foyer. Compared to the vigorous pace of his fingering earlier, he was moving deliberately, taking long, slow, deep thrusts in and out of her slit, no less intense for its speed. Widowmaker certainly seemed to be enjoying it, if the clutching and grabbing of her slit around his dick were any indication.

Maximilien was close, closer than he wanted to admit. He never had much lasting power with Amélie, but he made up for that in other ways. She’d already cum—now it was his turn.

“Amélie, I’m…”

“ _ S’il vous plaît! Maximilien, je ne peux pas—tout suite!”  _ Ah. She was near her end too. That’d make this much easier. He didn’t have to struggle, didn’t have to hold out. He could just...let go.

And so he did, burying himself in as far as he could, grabbing Widowmaker’s ass and groaning as his mechanical balls got the go-ahead to let loose, sending the thick, colorless fluid gushing out into her while she tried not to shriek. He’d been backed up for some time, anticipating this meeting, wanting to give Amélie the best cumshot he could manage, and it looked like he’d succeeded. It pumped and flowed, spurting and filling her, and her convulsing folds greedily accepted it all.

Widowmaker was still awash in the stimuli of being creamed with an Omnic load, but Maximilien was quite ready to go again, even as he fired off one more shot into what was likely an already whitewashed pussy. She’d come to him for a very specific reason—to feel good, and make him feel good—and he wasn’t going to let her down. While she was still groaning and whining, cunt gripping down on his cock, he pressed his chin to her clavicle—the closest he could get to a kiss—and started jabbing his hips again, fucking Widowmaker like he  _ hadn’t _ just finished blasting her with his orgasm.

The exultation of spirit, the rush of joy...this was what it meant to be alive. Maximilien would do his utmost to make sure Widowmaker remembered that. During their time together, she’d be able to contemplate little else but bliss, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Très lewd.
> 
> I'm also on [twitter](https://twitter.com/Lewdsmoke) and [ Hentai Foundry](http://www.hentai-foundry.com/user/Lewdsmokesoldier/profile).


End file.
